Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Crimson red-stained marks on her skin that would haunt her dreams for however long she lived. Tall weeds whipped against the jeans she wore, fallen tears making a home on the lines they imbedded on her cheeks. Broken whispers left her lips, begging for whatever God that was out there to listen to her prayers. Rick held his sons' limp frame against his chest, every so often fixing the grip he held on the boy's bloody body. "How much farther?" Adeline yelled out, breathless pants racking her chest as she pushed through the pain of her ankle and ran alongside her brother with fearful eyes, looking back to the heavyset man her husband dragged through the field.
"Another half-mile that way! He... Talk to Hershel! He'll help your boy." The man yelled out, out of breaths caught in the middle of his guilt-ridden throat. It was clear to the Grimes sister that he despised himself for the thing he had done, but at the moment the only thing she felt towards him was the impenetrable rage that coursed through her.
The farther they ran down the field, the more fear tore through her veins. A white farmhouse came into view, her body stopping abruptly as Rick stumbled towards the ground. In one quick motion, her hands wrapped underneath his armpit and lifted him up, her brother keeping the tight grip he held on Carl steady. "I got you... I got you." Adeline breathed heavily, the two of them taking back off in a rushed sprint.
Reaching her hands out, she curled her fingers around a wooden gate and harshly shoved it open - caramel eyes catching a woman wearing a pink top rush into the house. Soon after, just as the siblings crossed over the worn in terrain and moved towards the steps leading into the home, an elder man slung the screen door open and stepped out onto the porch. Four other people followed him out, including the woman from before. "Was he bit?"
"He was shot... by your man." Adeline gasped out, looking down at her hands covered in her nephews' blood. "I put pressure on the... I tried to... he said find Hershel. Is that you? You have to help us, please. You have to." She begged, switching the direction over her words several times with a set of broken eyes.
The elder, who she guessed was Hershel, nodded his head quickly and led the siblings into his home. "Patrica, I need my full kit. Maggie - painkillers, coagulates, grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol." He listed, guiding them into a bedroom and slinging the white comforter off of the frame. "In here." He instructed, Rick following through by laying Carl onto the mattress.
"I-I can help. I know what to do, I can help you." Adeline informed, rushing to her nephews' side while rolling the long white sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. Blood had already made a home on the material, but the feeling of air conditioning brushing against the stained skin cleared her mind as best as it could.
Hershel nodded, moving Carl's body slightly with careful eyes. "If you say so. Apply pressure." He ordered, the woman quickly following through by grabbing one of the pillows from the headboard and sliding the case off of the soft object. Quickly, she folded it several times over before holding it tightly against the gunshot wound on her nephew's stomach. Tears blurred her vision, but with a few harsh blinks, they slid down her cheeks and left a salty trail in their wake.
